


The Federation Dialogue

by TheGodEmperorOfMankind



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Warhammer 40.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodEmperorOfMankind/pseuds/TheGodEmperorOfMankind
Summary: For seven months, the war had raged on. With the Federation now on the back foot, the Imperium gives an ultimatum, "Join the Imperium or see your Federation be destroyed."
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

The war, if it could even be called that, raged on for 7 months. Every fleet we threw at these invaders was sacrificed for little gain. Their ships-- immense cathedrals many kilometers long-- carried weapons which lit up the blackness of space to a degree we could not hope to match. Similar fleets had waged wars of utter extermination against the Klingons and Romulans. It appeared that they faced the brunt of their cruelty. We had no friends to turn to in our time of need as planet after planet fell at the Federation’s fringes. Unlike our unfortunate peers, our call for a truce had been accepted. We sent delegates to meet with their leader, a man called Warmaster Horus.

“Warmaster…” he thought, a bemusing title if ever Picard had heard one. The grandiosity of the word itself outstreched any who could possibly deserve it. But considering the death and destruction wrought by this man’s command, perhaps such a title is aptly placed. Men capable of such wanton ruthlessness rarely ever experience battle or the horrors of war personally. He could only hope that this Horus could be brought to see reason. He gathered his retinue and departed from the Enterprise. Many kilometers in the distance, their destination loomed; even from this distance, the ship’s name could be clearly seen: The Vengeful Spirit. 

The Landing bay was no less imposing, with hundreds of rows of strangely-shaped ships filling the floor. Maintenance crews working formically to maintain and, more disturbingly, arm the craft in the event negotiations fall through. His observations were cut short as he immediately noticed the giants standing before him: four imposing figures to whom Picard only stood as tall as their chests. They wore a magnificent shade of grey, not dissimilar to the gleam of the moon orbiting Earth. Each of these armoured men was adorned with a single crest of a moon at various stages—a crescent, gibbous, half, and full moon. But all of these beings were dwarfed by their superior, a bald man who wore no armour, instead favoring a collection of animal pelts from various worlds across the Galaxy. He stood well above the already immensely sized men. Despite himself, Picard could not help but remark at this man’s aura, a mixture of fear and awe overtaking him.

“I am Horus,” the imposing figure stated in a deep and booming voice. “It is my understanding that you have come to negotiate your surrender.” The Warmaster delivered this information plainly, thinking nothing of it. “Surrender is not our intention with this visit, but we do wish to resolve this bloody struggle,” Picard replied curtly. Hidden behind their helmets, the expressions of Horus’ underlings remained a mystery, though the exposed face of the Warmaster revealed little more information. Horus gestured for the delegation to follow behind, his escort needing no such queue to follow suit. The passageways were quite ugly in comparison to the clean and elegant interiors of Federation ships. Men and women adorned in various uniforms and clothing darted through the halls, many stopping momentarily to catch a glimpse of the envoys passing by. 

Through the crude and cold metallic halls they went, passing a room filled with hundreds of trophies from past conquests, many of the artifacts foreign to Picard, for how long these men had been painting the Galaxy in their colour was anyone’s guess. They arrived at an elaborate room with a long rectangular table. Horus took his place at the far end of the table, his retinue standing in line behind him. The Warmaster gestured for Picard to do the same. “We have come to understand that our negotiations are not to be held before the people lest our Iterators be allowed to speak without interruption the safety and stability the Imperium’s rulership would be for them, by this token, do not expect us to be easily swayed by set speeches. Let us settle first what you take umbrage with and go forward from there. But first tell us, do our terms suit you?” Horus’ cold gaze pierced into Picard.

The Captain retained composure, not breaking eye contact with the Warmaster. “You imply that there is nothing to object to in your terms. What else can be expected from these negotiations but a continuation of war, should we prove that have right on our side, and otherwise we submit to slavery?” To sacrifice the independence of the Federation was unthinkable, especially to despots such as these. He had heard the stories of the first Federation worlds to be set upon by the post-human legions this Imperium possessed. Fortifications were cleared and bypassed in minutes, their occupants exploding from within. They were of course, the lucky ones as the armoured beasts charged fourth and tore the unlucky souls in twain with their bare hands. Never before had the galaxy seen such naked brutality, and it would go against every principle Picard and the federation held to surrender their claims to the Warmaster. “The fact of the matter is, the Federation has been free and independent for hundreds of years, and we have no intention of willingly surrendering our people to you.”

Sparing no time, Horus retorted, “If you have come here to lecture and meander to me about your moral objections to our right to rule, then we may cut this meeting short and resume what has been ongoing for half a year now. Our right to empire was cemented with our liberation of humans from their Xenos overlords. Just as we now set our sites on your nation, why should we make an exception for you when we have come so close to uniting humanity under one banner?” The uncompromising stance the Warmaster had taken had come as no surprise to Picard but was discouraging nonetheless. But he dared not show this sign of weakness to the immense figure sitting across from him. Despite Horus’ cold exterior, it was obvious to anyone that this man was a shrewd leader and no stranger to politics, the slightest sense of weakness was all he needed to exploit.

“I only seek to ask you what is fair and right, we had no quarrel with you before you appeared on our fringes, nor did we have any intention of making war with you. Would the dignified option not be to simply leave us be?” Picard inquired, hoping that reason would once again prevail. Horus did not flinch, and merely leaned back in his seat. “To leave you be is not only to betray our goal of a united humanity, but a sign of weakness. Should we choose to leave you now, our enemies will surely get word of it, convinced that we are too weak to conquer a fledgling federation like yours. We simply can’t leave you be, even should we desire it. What is fair and right is to stop this bloodshed and surrender peacefully as a new territory of the Imperium, sparing your federation destruction.” Horus spoke plainly explaining his side and awaiting Picard’s response.

“It is because the Federation fights for what is right that we must reject your rulership, how many countless wars of your Imperium would our men and women be forced to fight in? How many billions must lose their lives in your ‘crusade’ before your conquest is over? What possible benefits could we expect from being absorbed into your empire?” Picard inquired, the response following closely behind. “You have the unique position of having the opportunity to submit before suffering the worst just as we gain from not having to destroy what is left of you.” Horus’ callous reply rang in Picard’s ear. Was he expected to be illuminated by this revelation that everything the Federation stands for is now being held at gunpoint by it’s doppelganger. “Besides…” Horus adjusted his sitting position, taking note of his latest statement’s cold reception. “You should feel lucky that it was us that discovered your people. The existence of your… Federation, is known now. Whether you like it or not our wars will soon become your wars regardless of who your master is. It is a wonder how sheltered your people are from the malignant xenos plaguing this galaxy, those that we have found here are a far cry from the harsh realities we as a species face.”

“You cannot possibly hope to imply that the ends justify the means when the fate of entire societies are on the line. Nor am I willing to accept that your tyranny is for our own good. When before your arrival, we lived in an age of relative peace-” Picard was quickly cut off, Horus letting out an audible chuckle. “your Federation has lived on an island all this time thinking it is the world, but in truth, the world has only now noticed your little island, it was only a matter of time before this happened.” Picard was confused by this statement, naturally there was much for the Federation to explore but to compare our known galaxy to an island? Just how far have these men traveled before stumbling upon us? “The Federation is vast, Warmaster, sooner or later your fleet and armies will be exhausted. Surely you don’t expect to conquer all of us on your own?” Surely if Horus would not listen to moral arguments, then perhaps he will listen to pragmatism. This hope would soon reveal itself to be forlorn with Horus’ response. “It is bold of you to assume that I would not take that into account, captain. I have already sent word to my brothers of the vastness of your territory; more of us are coming. And rest assured that my brothers will not be as merciful as I have been”

Picard recoiled at the revelation. While he was not so foolish as to think this was all the Imperium had to offer, the fact that that fleets of this magnitude existed in excess was a terrifying prospect. Nonetheless, it would make Picard a traitor and a coward to capitulate to this tyrant. “Warmaster Horus, it has dawned on me that there may not be any suitable accord we can come to. The Federation has always stood for peace and prosperity for all. I refuse to betray everything we believe as a nation to your Imperium and we would sooner die resisting your yoke than to accept it willingly. It is with great pain that I say this but seeing as no agreement could possibly be reached between us it would be a waste of time to continue this discussion.” Picard stood from his chair and signalled for his retinue to follow him back to their shuttle. “Captain, if you leave this room without accepting my terms then the next time we meet shall be on the battlefield.” Horus did not rise from his seat, his hands locked together at the fingers. Picard swiveled on his feet and gave the Warmaster one final response. “Good day, Horus.” 

And with the meeting concluded, the Federation was sure to have many bloody decades of war ahead of them.


	2. First Contact

Seven months prior…

A hole in the very fabric of reality was violently torn open, rapidly changing hues of orange, pink and purple flashed and radiated from the gate. the immaterium desperately clawing its way out to fill the void. Hurled from this tear was a Dauntless-class cruiser, The Vigilant. Shortly thereafter the hole in reality snapped back in on itself and sealed itself, the star system regaining the normalcy it had briefly lost. A particularly violent warp storm had thrown the scouting vessel off course and into unknown and uncharted territory. The Vigilant’s captain, a man named Gabriel Manius struggled to regain his bearings. He had been told that nothing existed in this entire sector of the Void, but clear as day an entire star system lay before them. Angrily, he ordered his crew members to fetch the Astropath so that he may have even a vague handle on this situation. Within minutes a disheveled man, wearing bandages across his eyes and a tattered deep blue robe was dragged before him.

“Astropath, where in the name of feth are we? I am no expert of the warp but even I know this is not where we should be!” The Astropath, visibly shaken by the ordeal, struggled to fully comprehend what had transpired himself. “Captain, I am as confused as you; there should not be anything in this place, when I looked into the immaterium this entire section of space was devoid of… anything!” The man gripped his chest tightly, an unconscious reaction to a new revelation. “Captain… There should be nothing here, but I now see an entire segmentum! Stranger still, the warp here is calm, far too calm than it has any right to be!” The Astropath picked himself up and began carefully pacing around him. His face contorted again, confusion visible on his face. “No… The war now shows signs of agitation, it is progressively getting worse! It is as though… It is as though a cloak, or a bubble had been shrouding this segmentum from the Warp, protecting it from it’s machinations and keeping it hidden from us, but now we have torn through that protective layer and the outside is forcing itself in, like a flood!”

Gabriel grunted impatiently, grabbing the Astropath by the cloak and jerking him forward. “Speak plainly, Astropath. Your babbling makes no sense!” The Astropath raised his hands submissively, stuttering as he attempted to make sense of his realization. “Wh-whatever was keeping this place hidden from the warp… It’s gone now, and the Warp is slowly making its way inside! The curtain is lifted and all can see this place now.” The captain dropped the squirming astropath and returned to his station at the bridge, barking orders at his crew to make preparations for a second warp jump back to the fleet to report what they have uncovered. This was of course, interrupted by reports that the augur had picked up signs of an approaching ship, no more than 500-600 meters in size. Some sort of sloop if Gabriel had to guess. The ship, surprisingly, did not take long to get within visual range of The Vigilant. It was painted white with occasional accents of red and blue adorning it’s engines.

“Captain, the ship is hailing us!” The Vox operator shouted. “Well in the Emperor’s name, what are they saying?!” Gabriel barked back. The operator listened intently to what the unknown vessel was communicating to them. “They say that we are in Federation space… that we should identify ourselves immediately…” The captain looked ahead, his gaze remaining intently on the ship in front of them. “Say nothing yet. Operator, do we have any visual on whomever we are speaking to?” The operator began to type furiously into her logic engine “Trying to establish a connection with them now…” She peered into her screen before her expression turned from one of concentration to one of shock and disappointment. “Sir, it appears to be a xenos ship.” Gabriels lip involuntarily curled upon hearing the news. After a brief moment of silence “well, are there any other vessels approaching?” 

“No, sir” one of the crewmen operating the augur responded. “Then what are you waiting for? Fire on them.” Gabriel coldly commanded. After a few minutes delay, the blackness of space lit up in a show of orange and scarlet, peppering the ship with lance cannon fire and macro cannon salvo. The first volley did little to the ship, which was now scrambling, blindly returning fire. The bright blue and red projectiles fired upon The Vigilant were absorbed by the vessel’s void shields though the degree to which they affected them was more than a tiny bit surprising. For what seemed like an eternity, the vessels traded shots each salvo being absorbed by the shields of the other, but through sheer volume of firepower the small vellel’s shields began to waver, a moment longer and the enemies shields were down. The small ship turning tail to flee. A short-lived dream as the torrent of lance cannons tore through their engines, and rendered the ship immobile. Further macro cannon salvos finished the ship, exploding in a magnificent explosion.

Gabriel exhaled, thankful that his void shields held firm through the enemies rain of fire. Despite the ship’s small size, it was no pushover. The augur operator announced that multiple smaller vessels had broken off from the enemy ship. “Leave them. We need to return to the fleet before more of these xenos craft come to assail us.”


	3. Battle of Delos IV

Captain Shiva Constantine led the small flotilla investigating the disturbance in the Delos IV system. Aboard her flagship USS Victoria she contemplated the situation in which she found herself, with no more than 15 ships, she faced a dilemma, an immense fleet which outnumbered and outgunned her own now threatened the entire population of the Delos IV system and her fleet was currently the only ones close enough to come to their defense. But she could not retreat, reports from her scanners already suggested that the planets below had been subjected to heavy planetary bombardment. To retreat was to abandon the lives of hundreds of thousands of souls. “Captain, we are receiving a transmission from one of the vessels!”

“Understood, patch us through,” Shiva responded despite herself, she feared the events that were soon to come. Her duty preventing her from doing what her instincts dictated and fleeing. A voice distorted by heavy static blared through the bridge’s speakers, accompanied by an ominous static screen. The booming voice commanded that the fleet surrender immediately lest they share the same fate as the defenders of this sector.

“I am afraid that is out of the question, we will not stand idly by while you not only invade Federation space, but put civilians on the firing line as well.” She held her breath, the comm link going silent before bursting to life one final time.

“So be it.” The mysterious fleet cut their comm link and the battle began. Shiva ordered her crew to send out a distress call. Federation reinforcements were in desperate need. The mysterious fleet dispatched multiple smaller vessels to contend with the Captain’s fleet. If reports were to be taken seriously, engaging in a slugfest with these vessels was not to be considered. After the distress call was made, she opened a comm link with the rest of her flotilla, ordering them to warp within range of the enemy vessels only long enough to unleash a salvo before retreating back out of range.

These tactics would prove fruitful in the coming skirmish as the enemy destroyers approached. With unprecedented speed the predominantly Galaxy and Excelsior class ships warped into range and released a furious initial barrage into the comparably much larger vessels, which unfortunately were absorbed by the enemies shields. The enemy fleet let loose a volley of torpedoes from their prow, the Federation flotilla zipping back from the barrage, though some not quite far enough. The torpedoes managing to slam into the hulls of the Federation ships, catching the vessels flat footed as their shields take substantial damage. The enemy vessels barreling toward them, undaunted by the Federations tactics.

A second advance, the ships of StarFleet exchanging another volley against these imposing vessels. Their payload, again, being harmlessly absorbed by their enemies shields. Despite their best efforts they received retaliatory fire from various turrets emitting a powerful scarlet beams, peppering their formation. This posed no significant damage to the shields themselves but showed that they could not attack with impunity. Shiva, clearly frustrated by the lack of progress her fleet had made, dispatched another order.

“Focus fire on a single target!” She commanded, designating a ship on the periphery of the formation for destruction.

The Federation ships zipped within range yet again, facing the punishing shots from the scarlet beams of the enemy. In unison they released a volley against their mark overwhelming it’s shields and leaving it’s hull vulnerable to attack. Captain Shiva, choosing to strike while the iron is hot, orders her fleet to remain within range and loose another volley. The ship’s gun ports are struck repeatedly, triggering devastating explosions and splitting the vessel in two, it’s crewmembers thrown out into the void of space. The crews weathered a torrent of retaliatory fire from the enemy formation, not only from their beams but from the rest of their arsenal as well. The ferocity of the attack brought the shields of one Galaxy class ship down, capitalizing on this, four ships of the enemy loosed a volley of torpedoes at the ship. They collided moments before the ship had an opportunity to warp out of range, colliding primarily in the main structure of the ship, with one torpedo just missing the bridge. Strangely enough, the vessel was spared destruction, whether the torpedoes failed to detonate or some other err in their judgement was anyone’s guess.

The fleet shot back out of range, some captains again underestimating the range of the enemy’s torpedoes and suffered for it. While regrouping and coordinating for the next strike on the fleet, the vessel struck by enemy torpedoes began broadcasting strange transmissions, the captain of the vessel did his best to brief Shiva on whatever was transpiring aboard his ship. It was not hard to imagine, however as the man was drowned out by the weapons fire in the background. The Video feed further illuminated the flotilla to the crew’s fate as the doors to the bridged were breached and the captain’s head exploded when one of the enemies fired what appeared to be a form of shotgun. The bridge was painted in crimson viscera and the rest of the command crew immediately surrendered to the boarders. Shortly after, the comm link was cut and the ship warped toward the center of the enemy fleet, many smaller vessels approaching the commandeered ship.

An hour later, after multiple ships from both fleets had been destroyed by focus fire the two parties decided to retreat and reflect on what had been learned about their enemy. The enemy ships were immense, capable of destruction which outstripped what StarFleet were capable of. And their shields resilience was nothing to turn your nose at. However, they were slow and bulky and much more nimble Federation ships could run circles around them but to stay within range of these behemoths was foolish, so to capitalize on their speed was paramount.

It was after some days of waiting with the occasional skirmish which had only left Shiva with eight vessels left under her command, the rest scuttled, captured, or destroyed. The reinforcements she had called for had finally arrived, 100 of the StarFleet’s vessels mustered at such short notice was comprised primarily of a few Galaxy-class ships a large group of Ambassador and Akira-class ships with the rest being composed of older vessels mustered from local star systems in the surrounding sectors arrived in the Delos IV system, immediately reacting to this 25 of the enemy fleet’s largest vessels supported by ships of varying sizes numbering some 150 mobilized to engage this new threat. Their largest vessels were immense, dwarfing the Federation vessels by a large margin, weapons mounted in abundance, a Federation ship would not last long if subjected to a volley from these colossi.

The fleets lined up to meet each other in battle crews from both sides scrambling to get to their designated positions and await the orchestra of death that was about to make its debut. In the blink of an eye, Shiva’s fleet warped within range of the enemy flotilla Scarlet beams crossing fluorescent blue bolts, heavy ordinance pummeling the shields of the Federation, several small vessels of the enemy being torn asunder under the hail of destruction. Shiva’s fleet, however, did not fare any better, coordinated volleys of torpedoes turning sections of the Federation battle lines into glorified scrap yards, retreating out of range, the fleet regrouped. Choosing to focus fire on the largest of the enemy vessels.

“Captain, we are detecting large energy signatures from the prows of the enemy battleships!” a crewmember loudly reported. Shiva had but a moment to react to this news and decided to react decisively, electing to attack now before they had a chance to unleash whatever the enemy had in store for them.

Zipping into the fray again, the void was filled with death being delivered by each side, the far more numerous enemy having more ordnance available to be thrown at the enemy pummeled the relief armada with the fury of a lion. Meanwhile the Federation focused their attacks on the largest of the enemy’s number, their imposing vessel’s shields soaking up volley after volley. They released their response, 25 balls of energy shining with the intensity of the sun collided with the ships of the other side, the one attack enough to overload their shields and detonate the hulls of the Galaxy class ships in one fell swoop. Confusion reigned as each captain shouted orders and flooded the comm link with information and chatter. Their loss was not for anything, many of the smaller enemy vessels met their gruesome ends after greedily advancing too close to the Federation flotilla. 

Despite their heavy losses, it was of great surprise to Shiva that the enemy elected to continue their advance and pursue the retreating Federation fleet, a sane man would have withdrew to regroup and recount their losses. But as though they were possessed they maintained their advance, the order was given to again fall back out of the enemy fleet’s range and regrouped. Attrition taking its toll on the Federation armada, options were very few. Every approach cost the flotilla more and more ships, the immense battleships of these enemies acting as a wall for the federation to throw themselves at. Shiva gritted her teeth and prepared to give the order for one final push against the enemy fleet.

This was, of course, before one of her crewmen notified her of the sudden energy signatures appearing on her flank, holes in space were forcibly torn, reality’s innards spilling out into the physical, filling Shiva with a sense of pure revulsion. 25 ships were hurled out of these abominable blooms in space. with more energy signatures appearing across the system, Shiva forced herself to give the order.

“Withdraw from the system…” Shiva choked on her own words as they left her throat 

“There’s no point in laying down our lives if it means that we can’t defend the neighboring sectors…” She gave the order to warp to the nearest star system and prepare for the next of what she could only assume would be many greuling battles.


	4. Xenobiology

E1 Blue frantically locked the door behind him, the sound of gunfire no more than a few corridors away, he had followed the chief engineering officer to the engine room. The sleek and appealing design of the outside corridors giving way to a utilitarian grey room which did away with aesthetic appeal. The warp drive was situated in the center of the room with consoles on the adjacent walls. The rest of the maintenance crew took positions outside the entrance, phasers ready to hold off the boarding party which was wresting control of the ship. Blue took a position close to the door to serve as a last line of defence should the intruders manage to breach into the engine room. The Nasat trembled, he had joined starfleet for adventure, he was not expecting to get into a firefight with no foreseeable way out. His superior holstered his phaser and rushed toward the console controlling the warp drive.

“How are we going to get out of this? All we’ve done is trap ourselves!” Blue stuttered, fumbling to hold his phaser steady, trained at the door.

“We aren’t getting out of this, Scoob. I’m going to overload the Warp Drive and scuttle the ship,” his superior said, his attention solely on the console in front of him. Blue lowered his phaser and glanced quizzically at the chief engineer. Blue was naturally mortified at the prospect, for as long as he could remember, he had an extreme fear of death more so than what could be considered normal.

“Overload the engine? We’ve got nowhere to teleport to, we’ll die!” Blue stated, the battle outside the engine room began, a cacophony of weapons fire drowning out Blue’s protest to his superior’s plan. This did little to placate his already mounting anxiety, boxing him in with certain death on both sides of the door.

“There’s no choice, Scoob. We can’t let the enemy take the vessel. It’s better to take it with us than to give our technology to the enemy. Besides, once this thing goes it’s going to be painless,” the Chief Engineer said reassuringly. Blues look of fear on his chitinous face subtly morphed into a scowl. Scoob, for the entirety of his StarFleet career his peers had called him that. A reference to a 20th century cartoon character from Earth, a show Blue had never watched and likely would not enjoy. It was common to give the Nasat a nickname, the name ‘E1 Blue’ inconvenient to say in casual conversation. But with a burning passion he hated the name Scoob, but hadn’t the courage to tell his peers. Not that it mattered much now, with his boss having chosen for him how it will end.

“Who said that I wanted to die for this hunk of metal? Not everyone wants to die for a ship like you do,” Blue thought to himself. The gunfire outside the engine room grew more intense, the barking of orders and throes of death becoming more prevalent as the conflict continued. Blue set his phaser to kill and fought to bring the tremors in the hands holding the weapon under control. He thought through a million scenarios of what he could say to his superior to talk him out of his suicidal conviction. Knowing the man for over a decade, Blue knew nothing would change his mind. He would die here without ever having a say in it.

“Unless… I decide to stop him myself…” Blue was horrified at the thoughts he was now entertaining, it would make him both a coward and a traitor, but it would also might make him a living coward and traitor. He furtively glanced at the Chief Engineer, still absorbed in his task. It is unlikely that he would notice Blue approaching him if he acted now. He breathed in deeply and counted to three, and he made his move.

By this point the gunfire outside had stopped, replaced with a rhythmic banging on the only thing keeping them out of the engine room. Blue had to act fast, if they broke through and his superior was still alive, his actions would cost them both their lives. As quietly as possible, Blue raised his phaser and aimed it at the back of his boss’ head, who was blissfully unaware of his impending doom. 

“Scoob, sounds like they’re breaking in, hold them off until I can finish this… Scoob?” He turned his head slightly, just enough to realize what Blue was about to do. His eyes widened and his body twisted, Blue fired his phaser, his former superior disintegrating before his eyes. He was sickened by what he had done, regret overwhelming him. He pushed his emotions down, giving priority to surviving this ordeal. Blue went to work undoing what sabotage had already been done, working frantically to bring the Warp Drive under control, the ram at the entrance to the engine room growing louder. He tossed his phaser to the far end of the room and hid his Universal Translator in his clothes.

Blue marched to the door and fumbled with the controls opening it for the boarders. He dropped to the ground, throwing himself at the mercy of these intruders. To Blue’s surprise and bewilderment, these invaders were human. He had assumed that these beings were an as of yet uncontacted species living on the fringes of the charted Galaxy. How this situation was possible was beyond him. One of the men raised their weapon, aiming it at Blue, now overflowing with regret at his betrayal until relief washed over him as another man barked some sort of order at the soldier. Instead they hoisted the Nasat onto his feet and dragged out of the Engine Room. His guts churned as he was escorted through the halls of the ship, soldiers were busy clearing rooms and gunshots were still audible in certain areas of the ship, his friends splayed in a pool of their own blood throughout the ship. One woman who attempted to flee down the hall soon found her shin missing from her right leg, forcibly removed by a well placed shotgun blast. Despite her wails the soldiers cauterized her wound with what appeared to be the barrel of a recently used flamethrower and dragged her along with Blue. He sighed in relief that he had chosen not to do anything rash after opening the doors to these humans capable of unparalleled ruthlessness.

He was brought to the shuttle bay with the rest of the crew who had surrendered, and was promptly divided into two groups, one with humans and the other, with everything else. The amputated woman, being a Human, was put into the opposite group as Blue. Her fellow crewmates were appalled at what had been done to her. Blue had only seen her a few times, passing her occasionally in the corridors. He was suddenly hit in the shell by the butt of a rifle, herding the non-humans along to a strange shuttle that was awaiting them.

The transit to wherever they were going was tense, Humans with guns watched over them, ready to fire at the slightest movement. Not a single crewmember dared speak, paralized with fear. Looking outside, Blue could see the desolation the battle had caused, the ruins of Federation ships mixed with those of these humans, the frozen cadavers of many thousands littered the iron gravesite. He felt a sense of pity for the people lost in this senseless battle, to die in the vacuum of space was neither peaceful nor dignified. Looking ahead, he saw the immense figure of the vessel which he assumed would be his destination, the shuttle slowed, preparing to land on the vessels own embarkation bay.

Like cattle, the crewmembers were unloaded and moved deep into the bowels of the ship. While Blue was well aware his appearance was not pleasing to most species, the looks of pure revulsion he had received by these humans was surprising. Some going so far as to spit on him as they passed, others who wore no uniform stopping to take pictures of his visage and furiously scribble in their notebooks. It was as though his mere presence was a historical event deserving of being recorded. A morbidly flattering sentiment, Blue thought to himself. For what felt like an eternity blue was paraded through the unrefined corridors of the ship before stopping at an ominous room, the door emblazoned with the words Theatra obscura operibus obscuris prosunt. Even to Blue, who knew nothing of the language of these humans understood it’s foreboding nature. The Crew was herded into the large, dimly lit room, clearly they were not the first to arrive here as the shaking bodies of dozens of other non-humans stood lined up at the east side of the room, the silhouettes of strangely shaped humans guarding them. A high pitched humming much similar to that of a woman was slightly audible, distorted, as though playing out of a faulty speaker.

The soldiers who had escorted them here waited until all of the crew was inside before closing the door shut, daring not enter themselves. Their faces grimaced with pity before disappearing behind the door. Apart from the unceasing humming and the hushed whispers of Blues crewmates there was no sound. His eyes, still adjusting to the light, revealed little about the room’s contents. Silhouettes lined the rooms many others suspended in the air, a single drain lay in the center of the room, the floor tilted so that liquid would move toward the center. His observations were interrupted by audible screams of the man in front of him, the entire line flying into a panic. How Blue had not noticed what filled the man with such pure fear, he did not know, but he was immediately thinking of how good it would be to have continued glossing over it. 

A figure in a dark red robe, hummed cheerfully in a high pitched synthetic voice, focusing on her task. She stood over a large table tilted toward her, a Romulan lay strapped to the table, long since dead, his chest cavity opened revealing his inner workings to the room. Occasionally she would make notes to herself into some recording device as she carefully removed his organs and placed them into individual trays in front of her for further study. Viscera poured down to the floor running toward the center where it was neatly disposed of. Blue regurgitated the lunch that he had eaten only a few hours prior. His eyes, properly adjusted now was able to see this demonic figure in greater detail. Her torso was slim, her robe clinging tightly to her body, but as his eyes went further down her body became less human. He saw no legs, but many meters of machinery held up by hundreds of legs not dissimilar to a centipede. Her infernal humming only pausing to take notes on the progress of her dissection. 

One woman broke from the line and attempted to make a beeline for the entrance, swiftly gunned down by the 12 humans lined up parallel to the crew. Blue looked closer, realizing that they were more machine than they were man, their arms removed in place of fixed heavy weapons, their legs replaced with reverse-jointed mechanical equivalents. Their eyes were gone, replaced with a single mechanical lens. They did not react to the writing of the woman whom they had just shot mechanically standing still, eyes fixed on what was directly in front of them. He quickly fumbled with his Universal Translator, turning it on.

The demon angrily looking behind her, and approaching the wounded woman, she lifts her victim by the hair, inspecting the wound. “Ugh, this specimen is ruined.” 

The terrified woman’s struggling finally came to an end when the monster snapped her neck and through her into a pile of cadaver that had met similar fates. “That’s a shame… Oh well, Freja, fetch me the next one!” She cheerily ordered. The mindless husk acknowledging her order and waited for her to specify which of the prisoners she desired to examine next. Her face, much like her body, may have once been beautiful but now where once was a mouth was now a mere orifice on her face from which networks of dull silver tubes stretched out from. Her eyes replaced with an array of high powered lenses giving her the appearance of a spider. The flesh that remained on her body limply hung. She cheerfully hummed while scanning the crowd of non-humans searching for her next subject to process, her mechanical eyes drifting to Blue. His distinct form sticking out from the rest of his more human-like peers, her giddy mannerisms telling him her thought process long before she spoke. 

“Freja, fetch me that one,” she ordered, pointing her metallic finger at Blue. Dread overtaking his body, he prepared himself to make a break for the door, half-hoping that those human automatons would give him a quick death. He counted to three, one of the trans-human monstrosities approaching him, he prepared to make his escape.

A door on the west end of the room burst open, flooding the operating theatre with light. Another of the Demons, though comparably far less grotesque entered with an angry demeanour. “Cipra! There are no humans which can help me with my research! You promised me at least one!”

The Demon, apparently named Cipra, tensed up her body, turning to face the new figure. “I said there might be the experts that you need, I promised nothing!”

Blue shuttered, to afraid to move but anxiously listening to what was being said. The back-and-forth between the two devolved into childish bickering, had Blue not just seen Cipra carve one of his crewmates like pumpkin, he likely would have found it amusing to watch.

“You promised that if I let you play with the xenos, I would get anyone with knowledge of their technology, I seem to remember this arrangement better than you!” The man angrily retorted raising his mechanical finger into Cipra’s face.

“I do not play with xenos, I research-” She was quickly cut off by Blue, cautiously stepping forward, his frantic pleas found bemusing by this mechanical abomination.

“I-I understand the technology!” Blue said, holding his universal translator in front of him, it was a gamble whether this newcomer would believe him. The man, surprised at the interjection approached Blue and examined him thoroughly. Though the man’s face, machinery having replaced the majority of his original visage, Blue could still feel the disgust the newcomer had for him. Something he felt was ironic, the machinery making the man’s face a spectacle unto itself. 

“Good, you’re coming with me, xeno. Cipra! I am taking this one with me!” He called to the demon named Cipra, who turned and gazed at the man with a look Blue could only assume to be disbelief.

“He is my most unique specimen, You can’t have him!” She hurriedly sifted through her collection picking out a Benzite woman and frantically offering her to the man.

“Take this one! I have plenty of these specimens already!” she offered, her synthetic voice doing little to hide the desperation she clearly felt. Blue sprang into action, refusing to let the Benzite be spared instead of him.

“You can’t take her—she knows nothing! None of them do. I’m the last surviving engineer!” He pleaded with the pair of demons, committed to weaseling himself out of this situation, no matter the cost.

The duo bickered amongst each other for a while longer before Cipra finally relented and allowed him to go with the man. The newcomer grabbed Blue by his collar and dragged him forward out of the room. He left his former friends and crewmates to beg and plead for their own lives, he did not look back. Hearing the cheery voice of Cipra excitedly pick out another specimen to dissect. He hated himself for abandoning them, but at least he was able to hate himself longer than they would be angry at his betrayal. He distracted himself with examining his new surroundings, once again finding himself taken through the passageways of this labyrinthine ship, looking behind him, he could see yet another group of his crew members enter the room he had emerged from.

He entered a new room, brightly lit and ornate, exposed wiring and tubes criss-crossed the work area, stacks of books and loose parchment lay strewn across desks and tables, spilling onto the floor below. Collections of puzzling fragile artifacts were placed haphazardly across any available surface. Most surprisingly was the gargantuan robotic head elevated along the west end of the lab. The dread slowly subsiding, he finally let his guard down.

“Xeno, you may call me Csaba, from this day forward you will assist me in studying your technology. For as long as you are able to fulfill your role, you will remain here.” He gestured to a collection of rags layed out to make a makeshift sleeping area. While not the best of conditions Blue was just happy that he had eluded death for the moment. He would sleep in a cave if it meant he could live to complain about it.

“O-okay, I’ll do my best to help out,” blue stammered.

“Should you prove unfit to fulfil your purpose however…” Csaba trailed off, his attention focused on the Nasat. Blue gulped, his anxiety slowly building up in his chest again.

“Then I am sure that the Magos Xenologis will have more use for you than I will,” He finished. Blue felt a giant weight placed onto his chest, the gravity of the situation, while not having been lost on him, suddenly made itself clear. His only way to survive was to continue to betray the Federation and assist Csaba in his research of StarFleet’s technology, otherwise he will be sent to assist Cipra in hers. Blue shook the prospect out of his head, anything was better than suffering the same fate as his crewmates. Blue nodded his head, acknowledging his position.

“One other thing, I know you rely on that device to understand me, you will be rid of it soon enough. You will learn Gothic so that we may study the device, such technology would be useful to our cause.” Csaba said, pointing at the universal translator Blue currently held in a death grip. A man entered the room, telling the Csaba that there was a matter that needed his direct attention. Within a moment he had left the room, leaving Blue to contemplate his future.


	5. Occupation

The door swung open, a Magos along with a retinue of Imperial soldiers exited carrying a sizeable machine. While the Imperial soldiers were imposing individuals themselves, the Magos stood a full head above them, carrying a sizeable cog-shaped axe. His rust-coloured cloak flowed behind him as he moved. Shortly following behind the party were a man and a woman desperately pleading with the men to return the appliance to them.

Gabriel Manius took a long drag from his lho stick, examining the barren cityscape before him. The blazing sun above him cloaked the city in a blanket of oppressive heat; merely smoking on the street corner quickly became a test of endurance. 

The streets were devoid of life, the occasional Imperial Army patrol the only reminder that the city wasn’t abandoned. The city centre was in a state of disrepair, the storefronts littered with broken glass and debris. Vehicles sparsely lined the streets of the city center, the light reflecting off their windshields beamed into Gabriel’s eyes. 

He turned toward the building he was standing outside, plastered with posters from the new Imperial government presiding over the planet. “... Ration Program in Effect…” particularly stood out to Gabriel, the signs about the implementation of Imperial Crown currency and reminders to report xenos and military holdouts seeming far more commonplace. It brought back memories of his youth when his own world found itself occupied by the ever-expanding borders of the Imperium. 

The confrontation between the new Imperial citizens and the Magos intensified. More concerned with getting as much use out of his narcotic as he could, he only managed to get bits and pieces of the conversation, the couple repeatedly saying it was “how we eat.” Some of the more diplomatic soldiers attempted to reassure them they would be taken care of but it did little to diffuse the situation. 

“You cloaked freaks think you can do whatever you want, don’t you,” The desperate man said furiously, grabbing the Magos’ cloak and pulling him back. The man continued to speak, but what came out of his mouth was no longer important. The Magos’ mechadendrites whirred and whipped back violently, colliding into the man’s face, the sickening sound of cartilage and bone crunching audible even from this distance. Gabriel flicked the butt of his lho stick away and turned, noticing his friend had finally emerged from the makeshift Administratum office.

“Took you long enough,” Gabriel remarked.

“I wasn’t taking my time, they were,” She said dismissively, looking over Gabriel’s shoulder she noticed the spectacle going on behind him.

“Huh, what’d he do?” She asked, stretching her neck to get a better view of the ordeal, 

“Yeah, looks like he said something dumb to the Techpriest” Gabriel replied. The woman shrugged. He proceeded to look over his own shoulder to make sure nobody was within earshot before moving in close and whispering in her ear.

“So Alba, what did they say? Is there anywhere left standing?” Alba nodded, a smile present on her face. Handing a shoddily drawn map to Gabriel and tapping on a part of the paper labeled simply as ‘here.’ From what he could tell, it wasn’t far from where they were.

The duo set out on foot to their destination, their steel blue naval uniforms standing out drastically from the green and tan uniforms of the Imperial Army. Alba held out her palm, looking straight forward, her blonde hair packed tightly into a bun. Noticing her queue, Gabriel rooted through his pockets and placed one of the last remaining lho sticks he had into her hand. She stuck the stick in her mouth, quickly realizing she’s missing a way of igniting it, she gestured again for Gabriel to supply her with a lighter.

She closed her eyes and took a prolonged inelegant drag of the narcotic, blowing out the smoke from the side of her lips. When she turned and attempted to speak casually, she was drowned out by a small fleet of shuttles flying overhead which landed in a square somewhere off in the distance. Alba went quiet, rolling her eyes and taking a series of deep breaths, waiting for the noise from the shuttles to subside. After what felt like a minute, the screeching of the engines tapered off and she would be allowed to speak uninterrupted. 

“Tsk, they still using our shuttles for their relocation program?” Alba asked indignantly, taking note of the residential buildings with red signs with surnames and number designations hung over the doors. In the distance he could see a confused family wandering the sidewalk, comparing what was on a leaflet to the signs on the door.

“We’ll get them back soon; not like there were many humans on this planet to begin with,” Gabriel replied. Passing another group of soldiers examining a map of the city with a Magos, assessing where they had and hadn’t hit. A chimera at the end of the street was filled with the boxes he had seen earlier. A look of concern sprouted on Gabriel’s face.

“Wait, what if the Mechanicum already kicked in their door?” He asked, Alba shook her head

“Nah, the Administratum said the cogboys would be hitting this place last,” she said reassuringly. Relief washed over Gabriel, his calling for shore leave not a total waste on this kiln of a planet. He much preferred the cool, climate controlled interior of his ship. 

His eyes wandered the barren streets before focusing in on a commotion outside an older structure, a small crowd had gathered outside lamenting over what was about to happen. Nearby, a pyramid had been built from stacks of leather-bound books and various other documents, Imperial soldiers kept the distraught crowd at bay while a second group equipped with flamethrowers immolated both the building and the literature stored within. 

“For all their advancement, they couldn’t even figure out the Imperial Truth themselves,” Alba said sardonically, a wry smirk growing on her face. Gabriel shrugged, taking his lighter back from her.

“Apparently they were well on their way, but still allowed faith to exist,” Gabriel responded, doing his best to be understanding to what he could only describe as a broken people. A priest emerged from the crowd, his protests audible even from this distance, it grated on Gabriel’s ears and he motioned to Alba to move faster. He could barely tolerate the bellowing of a single fool let alone an entire congregation. 

Their destination was nearby, soldiers and members of his own crew entering and drunkenly stumbling out of the establishment. The building had no identifiable markings stating its function, removed by occupying soldiers shortly after occupation so that its purpose was less obvious to their superiors and more importantly, the Mechanicum.

The building’s interior was cramped, the establishment’s regular patrons scared off by the Army and Navy personnel now exclusively making up the customer base. The bar itself looked offensively minimalistic, a stark contrast to many of the other pubs the pair had visited in the past. Bright lights built into the seats and and various other pieces of furniture seemed to be some cheap gimmick for customers Gabriel figured.

Gabriel and Alba approached two voidsmen who immediately surrendered their seats at the bar for whom they immediately recognized to be their superiors. Gabriel was relieved to be in the air-conditioned interior of the establishment and out of the piercing gaze of the sun.

A man, in his mid 40s approached them asking them what they would like, clearly displeased with having to serve yet more of his occupiers. Gabriel leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, unable to read whatever language was scribed onto their selection, what he could read were the prices scribbled next to every selection in Imperial Crowns. 

“I’d like whatever is your normal beer, nothing fancy.” Gabriel said, Alba cutting in soon after.

“Just give me whatever has some kick in it” she said plainly, uninterested in fraternizing with the bartender.

Saying nothing in return, the man turned and said something strange to a machine behind him, their orders complete with the glasses themselves materializing from nothing. Gabriel immediately recognized the machine as the ones that the Mechanicum were working diligently to confiscate. Despite knowing these machines were illegal, he was fascinated by them, watching intently each time the device constructed an object. 

“The poor bastards rely on those things,” Alba blurted out, tapping on the counter impatiently. Gabriel glanced over, nodding in agreement. The man returned with their drinks and placed it in front of them, Gabriel and Alba rooted through their pockets and provided the amount that was owed. The bartender hesitated, a look of confusion plastered on his face before realizing what it was and placing it in a jar.

“Yeah, I noticed earlier how hard people here were trying to keep them,” Gabriel replied, taking a sip from the bottle he was provided with. He was taken aback at how good the drink tasted.

“Not a single farm on this whole planet. The Administratum is freaking out, having to build everything from the ground up,” she took a swig from her glass, her eyes widened and looked at the drink for a moment before taking a second sip.

“And the best part is, nobody here knows anything, the guys I was talking to earlier said they got to ship in a bunch of workers from off planet,” She grinned slightly, finding the prospect amusing. The door to the bar opened, Gabriel’s head instinctively turning to be sure the Mechanicum hadn’t come to end his fun so soon. To his relief, his uniform marked him as one of his crew members. The sound of collapsing boxes echoed from the back room, the bartender’s face quickly filled with fear and stormed off into the back room.

“When the Imperium came to my planet, there were celebrations in the streets, but these people,” Gabriel paused momentarily, sipping his drink, “well, they don’t know what suffering looks like.”

Suddenly a figure fills the seat to the right of Alba, the same man who had entered the bar just a few moments earlier. He was tall and stocky, sporting a full beard. His uniform was disheveled, and his hair unkempt, a disgrace to the ship he serves as Gabriel would have described it. Despite himself, the man was in high spirits, putting a hefty sum of Crowns on the counter and boisterously called for the bartender to serve him his drink. It was not only Gabriel who was irritated, Alba’s grip on her drink tightened and her face bloomed red. Oblivious, the crewman turned to the pair. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a lho stick on ya’, right?” The man said with an expecting smile, holding his palm out. Alba could barely contain her anger, despite measuring up to the man’s chest, Gabriel knew she would not hesitate to put this insubordinate in his place. 

“And what makes you think you can speak to your commanding officers like this?” Gabriel said sternly, choosing not to so much as glance in the man’s direction. Initially the man laughed heartily before the realization of to whom he was talking to set in. His demeanour shifted drastically, his presence shrunk and sweat pooled on his brow. 

“Captain, I had no idea- I wasn’t thinkin’,” He tripped over his words repeatedly, the cogs in his brain turning at an alarming rate in a vain attempt to create a suitable excuse, “I didn’t think I’d see our captain talkin’ with us crewmen is all.”

He then recognized Alba’s face, who had been given time to stew in her anger, his face grew pale and he hid his visage in the palms of his hands. He fully knew the verbal lashing he would soon receive. Some of the naval crewmen went silent and watched with interest and pity the situation the man had found himself in.

“Voidsmen Kalle, what are you saying? I am too low to be seen with the Captain?” She asked plainly, slowly turning to look at the terrified expression of Kalle.

“Voidsmaster Kontio, I wasn’t tryin’ to say that,” He said nervously. Gabriel recognized Kontio as Alba’s last name as well as what she had her subordinates call her. She did not give any reaction, electing to instead take a small sip from her glass and let out a long protracted sigh.

“So you’re calling me an idiot as well,” Alba looked Kalle directly in the eyes, firmly planting her drink onto the dark counter, “I think you should leave before you dig your hole so deep I bury you in it.”

Without saying anything further, Kalle grabbed his drink and hurriedly disappeared from view, as far away from his officers as he could. A smirk sprouted on Alba’s face, letting out a chuckle. 

“That one is nothing but trouble since he joined,” Alba remarked, having just polished off her drink.

“I’m surprised how terrified he is of you, seeing you’re half his size” Gabriel jested, laughing to himself.

“Just takes a little practice, Gabe,” Alba said playfully, raising her middle finger to him. 

Before she could finish the thought, a loud crash pulled Gabriel’s attention back to the bar. He and Alba turned their heads just as Kalle was pulling the bartender over the counter. Shattered glass crunched underfoot as the bartender fought back and another man ran up to Kalle to intervene.

Gabriel stood as Alba rolled her eyes but followed suit. Kalle threw a punch. The bartender began to swear. The third man bent to pick something up. Chairs scraped the floor all around them as the other patrons moved to flee.

“Voidsman, stand down,” Gabriel boomed. Kalle buried a shoulder into the man behind him before jumping across the bar and kicking the bartender into the wall. Bottles smashed. The bartender doubled over, but came back up with a shard of glass that Kalle blocked with his hand. One of them screamed.

“Kalle, you fuckwit!” Alba reached over the bar and yanked him backward. Kalle turned around and almost swung until he realised who had grabbed him.

‘“Voidmaster!” Behind him, the bartender clutched his nose and ducked off through the door. Kalle turned to run after him, but Alba pulled and slammed him against the edge of the bar. He grunted, and for a second Gabriel thought the voidsman was actually going to take a swing at his superior.

“Fuck,” Kalle spat. “He’s hidin’ something, swear. Smells like xenos back there.”  
Alba began to laugh, but Gabriel felt off. He saw something under Kalle’s flushed skin and trembling fists — a nervous energy, visible in his shifty glances toward the door the bartender fled through.

“Honest, saw ‘em rightly,” Kalle said. “Arms sliding into a trapdoor. A bolthole for xenos. Don’t have’a take my word for it!”.

“Definitely won’t, voidsman,” Alba said. Kalle winced as he squeezed his fist. He looked around then found a towel behind the bar to cinch tight around his bleeding hand.

“What are you talking about, Kalle?” Gabriel asked. “You assaulted the man.”

The voidsman turned to him. “I couldn’t find the barkeep, I was thinkin’ I’d go lookin’ for em’. Saw the door to the back was open, an’ I saw em’ handin’ a box to some xenos hidin’ inna hole. He saw me an’ attacked me!”

Alba laughed. Gabriel realised that the sounds he had heard emanating from the back room that the bartender had stormed off to investigate without any explanation very well could have been him checking in on whomever he was hiding.

Gabriel considered for a moment. He scanned the room and made sure there wasn’t anyone else left but them. He rounded in on Kalle.

“If you’re wrong about this, I’m personally spacing you once we’re back in orbit.”  
Gabriel looked at the voidsman and waited for him to flinch. He didn’t. Alba looked at both men before sighing and shoving Kalle free.

“Right, fine. Doing it your way. Gotta take the threat of xenos seriously, and all that,” Alba said. She shot Kalle a look and added, “If there are any.”

Gabriel nodded before vaulting the bar. Kalle grunted behind him but made no protest. He pushed the door open into the hallway leading into the bar’s back rooms. The metal walls were pitted, streaks of brown painting entire panels. Crates and empty pallets were stacked haphazardly against every standing surface. There was a door marked as a stockroom to the left, and an open doorway across that. Gabriel took a step into the hallway, then stopped. Either the bartender was long gone, or he’s being very quiet.

Kalle hesitated. “Over here,” the voidsman said, moving past Gabriel. He put a hand on the stockroom door. The stockroom was practically empty, rusted metal shelving hugged the walls. In the corner a corroded metal hatch lay closed but not fastened. Gabriel drew his laspistol from his holster and cautiously approached the hatch. 

Passing the doorway’s threshold he could hear the heavy breathing of a man on his flank. He suddenly felt metal pressed up against his head and a now desperate looking bartender holding the trigger, a shadow obscured his view of his assailant. A shrill whistling sound accompanied by a bright beam of light assaulted Gabriel’s senses, part of a beam for one of the shelving units now molten. 

He looks to his right to see Kalle and the bartender locked in a deadly embrace, Kalle holding the arm which held the weapon aimed to kill gabriel in a death grip. Gabriel, aimed his laspistol, the scuffle shifting and leaving the barman’s back exposed. He fired a single shot into the man’s lower back, collapsing onto the ground. Kalle wasted no time in wrested the weapon the bartender carried. despite now having a ghastly wound, the man still lived.

Gabriel, regaining his composure, approached the trap door and heaved it open. There was very little light at the bottom of the hole, Gabriel gazed closely into the blackness, the room’s contents soon becoming visible.

“Well I’ll be damned, Kalle you’re right,” Gabriel said. The Cellar was filled with xenos of varying kinds, some wore the uniform of the navy of the Federation, their eyes widened with fear and raised their hands slowly. Gabriel stood up and closed the hatch, turning to Kalle.

“Get the people in the front to go get help, there’s a small army down here,” Gabriel ordered, Kalle wasted no time exiting the room. 

The barman coughed blood and glared at Gabriel, his eyes filled with hatred. “You Imperial fucks are going to pay for what you’ve done here, mark my fucking words!” he spat, his contempt and disgust for Gabriel erupting from the surface. Gabriel was dumbfounded, in his years of service of the Imperium, he had never met a human who would willingly work with xenos, much less risk their lives defending them. He said nothing back. 

He prised open the hatch one last time, gazing at the Xenos at the bottom. “Alright all of you, come on, you're coming with us.”


	6. Derelict: Part 1

8 months after first contact...

Shiva gripped her chair tightly, her eyes frantically darting from one screen display to another. The battle was nearing its end and the Imperial Flagship was in sight. The fresh wrecks of Imperial and Federation ships littered the system, lifeless bodies drifting through the void of space. Only but a handful of Federation ships remained against the still far more numerous enemy. 

“All ships, focus fire on their flagship and cut the head off of this snake!” Shiva commanded, her determined gaze standing as an inspiration to her crew.

The federation fleet split off into three groups, smaller and more nimble ships moving toward the sides of the Imperial formation while the larger and more durable vessels moved ahead to lock them in combat. The Imperial battleships stood their ground against the Federation assault, escort and destroyers breaking off to meet the flanking force in combat. Shiva gritted her teeth and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes.

The Victoria carefully navigated the debris field, escape pods darting through the ruins. The immense hulls of the ruined Imperial vessels were just as dangerous as one that was fully operational. Shiva saw clouds of Imperial crewmen leaking out of a bisected Imperial destroyer, those who had not died already were suffocating. Shiva tried to pay these men no mind. 

“Captain, Imperial vessels are now in combat formation!” A crewman shouted, Shiva nodded and ordered her ship to remain on course. Shiva could easily see the grim expressions on her crew members faces, the odds of death no mystery to them. Shiva grunted, her eyes fixated on the vast flagship ahead of her. The ten other vessels in her group fed her constant updates on their situation.

Shiva noticed the flanking force had encountered the Imperials’ skirmishers, the bright lights from their weapons illuminating the two sides in the blackness of space. The fighting was vicious, neither side choosing to budge. The Federation vessels worked their way around the enemy skirmishers, surrounding them. This move proved costly, however, as two vessels had already been rendered to scrap in a blazing inferno. 

Sweat poured profusely down Shiva’s face, she would only have one chance to strike the enemy flagship. Her group had exited the debris field and was within range of the Imperial fleet. Their largest and most powerful ships maintained their position and awaited for the Federation to get within range, but the escorts loosed a torrent of torpedoes toward the Federation fleet. Shiva and the rest of her force scrambled to get out of the way, loosing a barrage of photon torpedoes in response. 

The attack was absorbed by the enemies shields vibrant colours of orange and pink flashing around the site of the impact. The Imperial capital ship fired a salvo from its prow, a vessel beside her erupted in flames, sending shards and debris in every direction. It’s shields were completely overwhelmed by the blast. Shiva slammed her fist into her captain’s chair.

“Get out of their firing arcs! Surround them!” 

The group split off and sped to the flanks of the Imperial fleet, peppering the Imperials with phaser blasts. Their battleships turned to face the ships but were unable to track the movements of the quick Federation ships and instead replied with their broadsides. Shots were traded and no progress was made by either side. Shiva grew frustrated.

“Where is our flanking force!?” Shiva asked, squeezing her fists.

“They couldn’t eliminate the Imperial skirmishers, they have withdrawn.” A crewmember promptly responded. The Ship in front of shiva exploded into flames, hit by another of the Imperial battleship’s prow-mounted cannon. The Victoria narrowly missed collision with the ship ahead of it. Imperial vessels, now finished skirmishing converged on her position, surrounded and with no escape she could only await the inevitable.

“Computer, turn off the simulation.” a soft voice said from behind Shiva. The bridge and everyone in the room slowly faded into nothing, leaving a large barren room, devoid of any personality save for the grid covering its entire surface. Shiva panted heavily, dropping to her knees. She looked behind her to see Claire Adley, her ship’s Chief Medical Officer standing in the doorway.

“What do yo think you’re doing?” Shiva asked, picking herself up from the floor, “I have to be ready for the next time they show up!” 

Claire sighed deeply at Shiva’s angered outburst, walking towards her distressed superior. She was much shorter than Shiva, her silky black hair flowing down her upper back.

“Captain, you haven’t rested in two days, if the Imperium does attack I don’t think you’ll be lucid enough to fight them,” Claire replied, a weak smile barely noticeable on her face. Shiva paused for a moment, considering what she had been told before shaking her head in refusal. Her hair stuck to her sweaty face and her hands were curled into balls.

“I don’t need to sleep, I need to learn to beat these damn Imperials,” Shiva responded, recomposing herself and shooting a glance at Claire. Claire merely shook her head in response.

“Fighting the Imperium in the Holodeck isn’t going to win us the war, you shouldn’t try so hard,” She said reassuringly, and leaned against the doorway. Shiva approached her, muttering under her breath. 

“You know what has happened since this all started right” Shiva said as she exited the Holodeck, Claire following close behind. The repetitive grid structure of the Holodeck giving way to the sleek and streamlined corridors that connected the rest of the ship. Shiva’s hands had not yet finished shaking, the adrenaline from her simulated battle having yet to wear off.

“Ever since Delos IV we run away to the next system, the Imperials come out from god knows where and we have to retreat again. We don’t even have any warning that they are coming, they just-- appear from thin air…” Shiva looked forlorn, her frustration giving way to depression. Claire placed her hand on the captain’s shoulder, though it was quickly slapped off.

“You are doing the best you can, captain, don’t blame yourself like this.” Claire said, Shiva merely waved her hand in response and turned to the Medical Officer.

“My ‘best’ has cost hundreds of thousands of lives, I have no excuse for losing!” she spat back, bile rising in her throat. Her guilt for her lack of potency throughout the war weighing heavily on her mind. 

Her train of thought was interrupted, a voice emitting from her communicator summoned her to the bridge. With a hurried pace, she navigated the corridors of The Victoria. Claire, moved to follow her.

The blast door to the bridge opened and Shiva took her place in the Captain’s chair. The brightly lit room was buzzing with activity, chatter echoing from all sides of the room. She took a moment to orient herself then motioned for her crew to quiet down. 

“What’s the situation?” Shiva peered out into the vastness of space, yet saw no immediate threat. 

“Captain, our scanners are detecting a large flux of energy ahead of our location, it’s growing in intensity!” Shiva froze, while she was expecting an Imperial attack, she was not prepared for one to arrive so soon. She barked orders to the crew to immediately assume their battle stations. 

Sparks of energy shot out from several locations in front of her ship, rapidly growing in intensity. Soon holes split open, the swirling colours inside of the portal sickened Shiva to even look at. Nearby crew members exhibited similar reactions to the unnatural phenomena before them.

An imperial vessel was thrown out from the anomalous tear in reality. The vessel displayed all of the hallmarks of surviving a battle, gaping holes dotting the hull. With the portal closing behind them, the imposing Imperial vessel limped within range of Shiva’s ship. Despite the Imperial Vessel being in firing range itself it did not fire its guns

Shiva froze, her guts churned and her heart felt as though it had shrunk multiple sizes. She had been preparing for the Imperials for days, simulating every situation, every variable yet her thoughts halted. Every instinct told her to fire, finish the enemy before they could bring more Imperials to the system. She saw first hand the callous destruction the Imperials were capable of. 

She opened her mouth to give the order, yet not so much as a murmur came out. She felt helpless, her body refusing to obey any command. She knew that Starfleet would never permit destroying a passive, wounded vessel, even if it was one from the Imperium. Even so, her body screamed to act quickly. The Imperials would doubtlessly be en route to retrieve their vessel- a beacon leading them to yet another world of innocents to purge and subjugate.

“Captain, your orders?” one of her bridge crewmembers piped up, freeing Shiva from the web of thoughts entangling her. 

She looked around herself, the crewmen working busily to monitor the situation. Some, however looked back at their Captain with concerned expressions, having just witnessed their leader paralyzed, for how long, Shiva could only guess. She attempted to recompose herself and salvage her stern demeanor. Shiva’s mouth was dry, but she would allow herself no more pauses, she stood up from her seat and addressed her crew.

“Attempt to open comms with the Imperial vessel, offer their crew safety in exchange for their surrender!” Shiva shouted.

One of her officers typed furiously on a computer, after many moments he turned to the Captain with a bewildered expression.

“Captain, we’ve been put through, but there is no response from the Imperial ship.” He reported, a pit grew in Shiva’s throat.

“I managed to scan their ship,” another officer interjected, “there are signs of life scattered throughout, but most of them seem to be gathered around a strange energy signature in the ship’s core.”

“I’ll report this to comman-” a third crewman said, quickly cut off by Shiva.

“Report nothing yet until we have a proper grasp of the situation, do we know the nature of the energy signature?” Shiva aked, a plan of action now formulating in her head.

“Negative, though the signature seems to have the same properties as the gates the Imperials use for travel.” 

Shiva balled her hands, and pushed past her irrational anxiety, this was the perfect chance to redeem herself for her past disgraces.

“Prepare to beam onto the Imperial vessel, I will be leading the expedition.” She said with fiery resolve.


End file.
